An Eclectic Bunch
by DowntonMakeMeHollaHunnyBooBoo
Summary: A grouping of oneshots set around a grouping of Doctor Who characters, with a grouping of themes. Just something I had laying around from a writing competition on Instagram, so each one shot is a bit shorter in length than typical for this site. Some AU, some canon.
1. Fairy Tale - Mickey & Martha

**_Fairy Tale_**

_Martha & Mickey_

"Cos I knew you were trouble when you walked i-in," he sings along, dancing up to join his wife at the bar. "So shame on me now-ow..."

"Mickey the Idiot," she smiles slightly, but he knows he's about to get an earful. "You're late,"

"I got a flat," his explanation receives only a doubtingly raised eyebrow. "I've got the spare on my car, you can go out and look!"

"A flat doesn't take an hour to fix, Mickey!" they've been shouting over the music, but right then the song ends and all eyes within a 5 foot radius of the couple turn to watch the imminent quarrel.

"I had to run an errand," trying to lower his voice as another song comes on, he places his hand on her arm, only to get it shaken off.

"An errand to _where_? Your girlfriend's house?" slamming her beer onto the counter, she storms out of the bar and finds his car, with a spare, in the car park. People always say that the first year of marriage is always the hardest, but theirs had been relatively easy. It was the second year that was harder. And the third year. _Three years, we just barely made it to three; there's no way we'll make it to four_, the woman thinks to herself, leaning against the car. And she's right, they won't make it to four, the divorce papers have been in her car for weeks, but she's been waiting to give them to him. Because she at least wanted to make it to three years, and now that they have, she can finally give them to him.

"Martha!" he yells, coming out after her.

"That is just like you Mickey Smith, putting the spare on your car just so your excuse has backup!" Martha jabs her finger in the direction of the tire, still yelling at the same volume as when they were in the bar.

"C'mon, let's take a drive, I don't want to do this in public,"

"Fine," they get in the car without saying anything. She doesn't ask where they're going and he doesn't tell her, just pretending to drive aimlessly. He also waits for her to speak first, knowing that anything he says will make her mad. Martha holds her silence, trying to make him uncomfortable until Mickey reaches his destination.

"Surprise," he gets out to open her car door, while her eyes remain fixed upon the scene before her. They've pulled up behind their house, and their back garden has been transformed into a place from fairy tales. There are white lights strung through the tree and across to the house, creating a canopy of stars under the dark, cloudy sky. Martha steps out of the car, still in awe, and follows Mickey to a table set for two, across rose pedals sprinkled on the grass. "Happy anniversary, Mrs Smith," he says, pulling her into a tight hug; and she laughs, laughs because how could she ever think of divorcing this man. This man who she had fought off aliens with, who didn't think she was off her rocker when she talked of her days with the Doctor, this man who so obviously loved her.


	2. But The Wrinkles - Whoufflé

**_But The Wrinkles_**

_Whoufflé_

"Clarrraaaaaaaa, could you help me down here a moment?" The Doctor to draw his companion's attention away from her book.

"I suppose so," although they are only separated by the glass floor surrounding the TARDIS console, she has to shout to be heard before hopping off her chair and skipping happily down the steps to join The Doctor at his maintenance project. "What is it, darling?" She asks warmly, wrapping her arms around his middle from behind and sunggling her face into the back of his tweed coat.

"Please, Clara," he unwraps her arms from around him and turns to face her, "I wish you wouldn't do that. You know it can't work, that it would never work. I'm as close to immortal as anyone but Captain Jack can get, and you're... well, you're, just... human. And seeing you grow old, while my face never changed. That's not a very good life, is it?" It pains him so much to say it, but he knows he has to. It happened with Rose, and with Amy, too. One he loved in another body, and one was his best friend, but eventually he couldn't help but notice every line, every crinkle in their faces. No wrinkle went unnoticed and everyday the number grew. He hated it. He hated seeing them age, it just reminded him how awfully old he was. It reminded him that he could never be with someone forever, because their days were numbered and his were not.

But oh how he wanted to. The Doctor wanted nothing more to live his long life to the fullest, to laugh as much as possible, to save as many lives as he could, and lastly, to love like no one had ever loved before. He could see that Clara loved him, too. He could see it in her eyes, just when she looked at him, and he could see it in her hugs and affectionate phrases. He could plainly see that her love for him was not the usual love brought about by travel in the TARDIS, the love that had claimed so many girls before; but that her love was different. It seemed as though her love would be the same even if he weren't a time-traveling madman. And he loved her all the more because if it.

The Doctor completely forgot his reasons for calling her down here as he bent his head ever so slightly to press his lips against hers.

And put all of the things he could not say into that one kiss.

He hoped she would understand.

Because he loved her.

And he didn't care about what would happen when she aged, he just wanted to love her as she deserved to be loved.

In the present.

And not as a memory.

No matter how fond.

—

Author's Note:

Hey, y'all. Welcome to my little collection, I hope you find it enjoyable!

I just thought that I should put out there what the tasks for reach of these oneshots were, as they were part of an IG completion... The first (Fairy Tale) was to write about ships not often thought about. This one, was to write about ships we are against (I'm sorry but I hate Whoufflé with a passion). The next, which I'm in the process of posting, I was to write what the world would be like without ole favorite character.

That is as many tasks as I've done, and I don't know how many more there will be, but I'll keep posting my entries until it's done:)

Please do R/R,

Della Anne


	3. Why? - The Doctor & Rory

**_Why?_**

_The Doctor & Rory_

"Why'd you say yes?" The Doctor looks at me from across the console as he starts the TARDIS up. "All those years ago, when I asked you to come with me, why'd you say yes?"

His question shocks me. To be totally honest, I have no idea why I said yes. I knew how dangerous it would be from the very start. The very first day that I met him, the earth was almost incinerated. And I lost Amy. Bright, young Amy, my best friend since the beginning of our lives, suddenly... not with me anymore. Dead. Thinking about it now makes my eyes mist over and I have to blink several times to keep the tears from falling. I focus on the good that came out of that day, instead. We saved the earth from incineration. We defeated Prisoner Zero, but not before he defeated her.

I'd said yes because all I cared about in Legworth was gone. My parents had left as soon as I was old enough to live on my own, and Amy was my only friend; that was definitely part of it. But I said yes for another reason besides distracting myself from my grief. I went because I was insignificant, and tired of being so. I went because I wanted to save lives on a massive scale, as I had on that first day, and as I had done almost everyday since. "I wanted to be more than just a particle of dust, living out my short life without it ever affecting anyone but me. I wanted to be important," I tell the Doctor, going to sit next to him on a small bench while he lets the TARDIS drift through space.

"Rory," he turns and looks at me evenly, and I know what his next words will be, before he draws in the breath that will power them. "In all my years in time and space, I've never met anyone who wasn't important."

"I know," he's told me before, and I bristle at being told again. "You've said."

He notices how I say it through gritted teeth, he notices how annoyed his words make me. And he knows. He knows that his question made me think of her, as he thinks of her now, and his eyes mist as mine did, but they do not mist with lost love and with shattered dreams and memories. No his mist with a broken promise, made to a little girl in a garden. The Doctor apologizes then, for he also knows that the pain I feel when I think of her is a billion times worse than his. "Rory, I'm sorry,"

"I know," I whisper back, before falling silent for a long while. When I clear my throat and speak again, it's because I've reached a decision. "It's time for me to go back, Doctor," he makes a small sound of protest, but I continue on, explaining myself further. "I've been with you a great number of years, but now my joints are sore and my bones are weak. My eyesight is poor, and my back aches. I figured out how to count the days not long after joining you, and I'm fifty years old. A rather fit fifty, but fifty just the same. I've saved a great number of lives, lived more in my thirty years with you than most people live in eighty, but it's time. I haven't had time — to mourn her properly. It's time to stop running, and to pick up the pieces.


	4. Goodbye - Amy, Rory, & 11

_**Goodbye**_

_**Amy & Rory**_

_Running, running, running.  
Always running._

Eventually, Rory's sobs lose volume, and turn to silent weeping, before giving way to numbness and the occasional sniffle. He's still slumped by the door of the TARDIS, having collapsed there as soon as they had reached it, while the Doctor had kept running right to the console to get them oust of there before Rory did anything stupid.

_Onwards, onwards, onwards.  
Don't stop._

"Rory, I'm sorry," he comes over now, and sits opposite him. "The word _run_ is nearly synonymous with my name, but today... Today I pushed the limits and her body gave out."

Rory is silent for a while, before something occurs to him, "Can't we just go back and get her? Right before..." It is a time machine after all. He might be able to save his wife yet.

"That would mean crossing both of our time streams. A long time ago, the TARDIS might have been able to handle a paradox like that, but not anymore. She's grown old," as if in response, the TARDIS creaks and shifts, the labored _woosh_ as she drift through deep space more defined.

"But, but... I got eaten by time energy and ended up a Roman," he sounds so full of hope, and it breaks both the Doctor's hearts, even though they have just been shattered by Amelia. "Is she just going to turn up somewhere else?"

"Maybe," you must know by now, but the Doctor lies.

_Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.  
Step... Step... Step...  
The word loses all meaning to her, and she doesn't care to think how long she's been saying to herself. Over and over and over, a ceaseless drumbeat, in time with the slap of her feet on the floor and the heavy breathing of her companions._

"We were running for _four hours_, River," he throws himself down on her bed, "and there are a great number of things that I could've done to prevent it."

"You had no way of knowing," she sits next to him, the glow from the TARDIS bulb illuminating her face inside the dark cell. "Where's Rory?"

"He's... I took him to his dad's," the Doctor sounds so defeated, so... empty. "Listen, River, the thing that we were running from..."

_A great big wall of grey gas. It moved slowly, and filled the tunnel easily, pushing forward towards them without losing density. So they ran. They ran slowly, because the TARDIS was far, and they needed to have enough energy to reach it._

"... and she stumbled and fell," his eyes are wet with tears as he recounts the day to his dad, "and the Doctor just grabbed my arm and pulled me forward without looking back and we made it to the TARDIS not 100 yards later," Rory collapses into sobs now, as he finishes the story.

"Oh, my boy, my boy," Brian holds his son closer, taking a deep breath and saving the mourning of his daughter-in-law for later.

"I can't even remember the last time I said 'I love you'."

_Amy's lungs scream for air, sweat drips from her brow, and she thinks of giving in. Wouldn't it be easier to just give in and be consumed than to continue this endless run?_

_It's no sooner than she's thought this that she stumbles on a pebble and falls to the ground._

_It's no sooner than she's fallen that the gas, kept so carefully at bay, reaches her._

_It's no sooner than the gas reaches her that she is dissolved into one small puff of smoke._

_The smoke curls itself into a word, and it is her last word, but a last word unworthy of her. She's the fairy tale girl, and she deserves a death much more heroic than this, she deserves a long dramatic death. Not this run, not this stumble, not this one word. But it is so. Her death is no more heroic than an old woman dying in her sleep, but she is a hero. It does not do well to linger on what one deserves, only to remember what one has. And yes, she deserved more. But this is what she had._

_She had that one word._

_That word was "Goodbye"._

_And that was the end of Amelia Pond._

_A/N: ok. So the task for that one was to write our favorite characters death._


	5. Gray - Amy & Rory

**_Gray_**

**_Amy & Rory_**

_4:17pm, April 10th, 1948, New York, NY_

Red.  
Her hair, falling like flames down her back and over the white lace of her gown.

Green.  
The envy I have for the man standing at her side.

Blue.  
How I feel now, and have felt everyday since she left.

Gray.  
My life without her.

-  
_6:37pm, April 10th, 1948, New York, NY_

"Are you quite alright, darling?" he asks, noticing that I'm not fully _there_ as he sways me around the dance floor.

"He's here," I whisper back to him, wary of our guests gathered around the edges, watching our first dance. "He must have been at the church, too, although I didn't see him there."

"Oh," I feel Matthew tense as he holds me, and I'm reminded that the Rory he knows is the Rory I told him about, the one who gave me an irreparable broken heart. No, Matt does not know the Rory who loved me, the Rory I loved. "He wasn't invited,"

"Ros kept trying to get me to invite him," squeezing his broad shoulder beneath my own slender hand, I try to get him to relax a bit, "She must have tacked him on as somebody's plus one."

"Do you want me and my groomsmen to chuck him out of here?" He makes me smile now, as I should've been smiling the entire dance.

"No, no, it's fine. He won't cause any trouble,"

_2:01am, January 17, 1947_

"Why couldn't you have stayed calm for once, instead of flying off the handle?" She enters a few steps behind him, and slams the door, chucking her keys and bag onto the hall table. "Is it too much to ask that you make it through just _one_ evening with Ros and Patrick without feeling the need to shove your own opinions down everybody's throats? I hope you're happy because my friends hate you!"

"I hope you're happy, too," he paces angrily between the couch and kitchen counter, their home seeming quite tiny compared to his large strides. "I hope you're proud how you would stutter and stammer and make a fool of the both of us by trying to mend fences that were never there. So though I can't imagine how, I hope you're happy right now."

"At least I'm _trying_ Rory. At least I'm _trying_ to accept that there is no way he'll ever be able to come back for us, no way that we'll ever go back to our own time. At least I'm trying to fit in with a time and country and culture that is not our own. Why can't you try?"

"Why can't I try? _Why can't I try_? Amy, I've never had to try. I knew from the moment that angel touched me that I would never see my time again. It's you who's been stuck in the past, or the future, or whatever. It's _you_ who can't get over our time with him," he crosses the room in three strides to stand face to face with her, and she does not back down. "I hate to break it to you Amelia, but we're never going back. The sooner you get that through that thick skull of yours, the sooner we can get on with it and build a normal life together,"

"No,"

"No?"

"No, we're not going to build a normal life together. I'm sorry Rory, I'm done," and with that, Amelia Pond walked out of his life, leaving it all just one big monotone shade of gray.


End file.
